


false start (the Tea and Diplomacy Remix)

by MiraMira



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7576150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/pseuds/MiraMira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Operation: Rescue Varric doesn't go the way Aveline planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	false start (the Tea and Diplomacy Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunspeared](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunspeared/gifts).
  * Inspired by [false start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4999927) by [sunspeared](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunspeared/pseuds/sunspeared). 



> I found it _very_ difficult trying to find a story of yours to remix, sunspeared; they all seemed perfect just the way they were. Ultimately, I decided my best bet was to go back and try to tell the story of two of my favorite warrior women meeting the way it might really have happened. I hope you find it a worthy interpretation!

“It's been three days, Aveline,” said Merrill, breaking the silence looming over one of the most somber – and sparsely attended – round of drinks The Hanged Man had borne witness to since Hawke's departure.

She set down her tankard and reached a reassuring hand across the table, as much for herself as for Merrill. “Patience. Remember, the whole reason we agreed to let Varric handle the questioning was to buy time. Besides, if he were in danger, he'd find a way to warn us. Just like he said.”

“He said he would if he _could_ ,” Merrill countered. “Besides, you saw the Seeker. Did she look patient to you?”

Aveline took a moment to piece together her brief impressions of the woman, limited as they were by her strategically delayed arrival on the scene: armor both practical and polished (a rare combination, in Aveline's experience), dark hair wound so tightly about her head it was almost possible to miss the one concession to femininity its intricate braiding represented, a stubborn jawline, deep scars adorning her face without marring its angular attractiveness, and a piercing gaze reminiscent of the dragons her family was so noted for slaughtering. There was a bit too much of Knight-Commander Meredith in that stare, back when it had still been possible to believe the Templar's definition of justice was merely overzealous and not insane. And Varric's ramblings had been known to drive even the most mild-tempered individuals into apoplectic tantrums, even when he wasn't aiming for that outcome.

She heaved a long sigh and bid an unspoken farewell to the rest of her ale. “Fine. Let's take tonight to rest up and prepare. If Varric isn't back by morning, we'll go pay a call on his new friend.”

~

“You're sure they're here?” Merrill asked, staring at the mansion that had once felt like a second home to both of them with more trepidation than she'd often shown traipsing through Darktown at midnight.

Aveline understood the feeling. This was the last place in Kirkwall she wanted to be, knowing Hawke would never again be there to greet her, and yet... “We have to start somewhere. And both the Guard patrols and Varric's informants report this is where she's spent most of the past few days.”

Before either of them could lose their nerve, she strode up to the door, pounded on it, and cupped her hands as she shouted, “Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast! The Kirkwall Guard requests your presence!”

There was no response for several long moments. Just as Aveline was about to order Merrill to blast her way inside, Seeker Pentaghast emerged. Her harried expression all but confirmed that Varric remained alive and well for the moment, though for how much longer appeared to be an alarmingly open question. Especially as said expression disappeared behind the icy, imposing professionalism of the Right Hand of the Divine.

At least Aveline could take comfort in the fact she was taller.

“Excuse me, miss?” she heard Merrill pipe up beside her. Which hadn't been the plan, except that Merrill sounded so remarkably collected, Aveline decided to let her run with it. “I’m Hahren Merrill, of the Alienage, and this is the Captain of the Guard. We’re looking for Varric Tethras, deshyr to the Merchants' Guild. I was hoping you’d had some word of him?”

Unfortunately, Merrill took the Seeker's failure to respond within a second as permission to keep going. “Or rather, we were hoping to have a word with him, since it's rather obvious where he'd be. And what you've been talking about all this time. Except that it's all in the book, isn't it? So really, there's no reason to continue holding him. I mean, I know what people think when they hear 'Hawke's friend' and 'Merchants' Guild,' but Varric's not like that. He won't deal with the worst members of the Carta, and...”

“Enough, Merrill,” Aveline interceded in her most commanding voice, cutting off an impassioned defense of Varric's card-playing skills, before turning to the Seeker and launching into her prepared spiel. “Seeker Pentaghast, you will release Ser Tethras into our custody immediately. If you wish to take a citizen of Kirkwall for questioning, you may apply to Lieutenant Brennan at the office of the Guard in Viscount’s Keep between the sunrise and noon bells.” She reached into her satchel, keeping her free hand on the hilt of her sword as she saw the Seeker reach for hers, then releasing it as the other woman's battle stance relaxed as she saw what the pouch contained. “Here are the forms. I’ll require the Grand Cleric’s signature, and the Knight-Commander’s, verifying that this is Chantry business.”

A corner of the Seeker's mouth turned up, in what might either have been a smile or a smirk. “My apologies, Captain Vallen, but this is Seeker business. The only authority I require is my own.”

“Is that so?” Aveline revised her estimation of Varric's odds of ongoing survival sharply downward. “I'm afraid I must insist on a more official explanation.” Her hand edged back toward her weapon. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to settle this in single combat?”

She'd intended the offer as a threat, but the instant the words left her lips, she found a part of her – the same part, she suspected, that had responded to so many of Hawke's wild ideas with “Oh, why not?” – was hoping the Seeker might take her up on it. She couldn't remember the last time she'd faced a real challenge without wondering whether she'd live through the encounter. And while she supposed there was a chance things might take a turn for the worse, she didn't intend to let that happen. Not with Varric's freedom on the line.

The Seeker appeared tempted as well, but shook her head after a long pause. “I believe Kirkwall has seen enough bloodshed, particularly between those who should have been allies.” She gestured toward the estate. “Will you come inside, and see whether we can find a diplomatic solution?”

Merrill let out a whimper. “Oh, no. Not you, too, Aveline.”

Aveline tucked the forms back into her satchel. “It's all right, Merrill. Go tell Donnic where I am, and that I'll be done shortly.” She said the last bit staring directly into Seeker Pentaghast's eyes. “If not, he has his orders.”

“You'll have your Captain back within the hour,” the Seeker confirmed.

Merrill looked about to demand further reassurance, or add Varric's immediate return to the negotiations, but ultimately nodded. “One hour. After that, I'll—I'll be very cross!”

“So that's Hawke's fearsome blood mage,” said Seeker Pentaghast with bemusement, as Merrill went racing off in the direction of the barracks.

“I wouldn't risk making her cross if I were you,” said Aveline. She took a step toward the door. “Shall we?”

~

“Tea?”

“Thank you,” said Aveline, accepting the profferred cup. Thankfully for her nerves, it did not appear to be one of Hawke, Fenris, or Varric's favorite blends; instead, a pleasant combination of spice and exotic fruit wafted over her. She brought it to her lips, but did not drink.

Seeker Pentaghast – or “call me Cassandra,” as she insisted – settled into her own chair across from Aveline and snorted. “Captain, when I offer someone tea, it is only tea. Adding...unexpected ingredients is more Leliana's style. And I doubt she would insult your intelligence with such an obvious tactic.”

“Aveline, please, if we're going by first names.” She took a cautious swallow of the tea. It was every bit as good as it smelled. “Now, to business. I admit, Varric has unfortunate difficulty following both the spirit and the letter of the law simultaneously at times. But I wouldn't allow him his liberty if I thought he presented a danger to Kirkwall, the Chantry, or Thedas at large, let alone consider him a friend. Why are you keeping him detained?”

In lieu of an immediate answer, Cassandra poured herself her own cup. “You were the Champion's friend, too,” she said, once she had taken her fill.

“Is that a question?” asked Aveline, raising an eyebrow.

“An observation. I must admit my surprise, given Varric's tendencies toward embellishment, but everything he says about you appears to be true. I see no reason this would be any exception.”

Aveline felt the color rising in her cheeks. She'd never gotten through Varric's account of Hawke and their adventures together in full, but she'd made it just far enough to know how thickly he'd laid on the praise. “That's very kind of you.”

Cassandra leaned forward, as though poised to land a strike. “I take it you did not consider the Champion a danger to Thedas, either?”

A long pause ensued. “More of a necessary risk,” said Aveline at last. She braced herself for the blow.

To her surprise, Cassandra's shoulders lost their tension. “I agree.” She inched closer to the edge of her seat, this time reminding Aveline disconcertingly of Isabela attempting to wheedle a juicy piece of gossip out of someone. “Do you know anything of her whereabouts?”

“Nothing more than Varric's written,” Aveline admitted. “Next to Fenris, he knew her best.”

“Which is why I need him.” Cassandra drew herself up just as she had upon opening the door. “You have my solemn word: as Seeker, as a Pentaghast, and on everything else I am, he will not be harmed. I realize that may not be enough to meet the Guard's standards, but...”

Aveline studied Cassandra a moment. She didn't see Knight-Commander Meredith there any more, but something far more familiar. “It'll do.”

~

“Varric's been off with the Inquisition a long time,” said Merrill, in what might have come across as a non sequitur were it not a familiar refrain of their get-togethers by now.

Aveline sighed and downed the remainder of her drink. Something told her she might not have the opportunity to finish it otherwise. “He sends letters practically every week, Merrill. I doubt anyone's figured out how to imitate his writing that thoroughly.”

“They say that Nightingale woman's awfully clever,” Merrill persisted. “And even if he's worried the world might end, you'd think he'd want to see Kirkwall one last time. Wouldn't you?”

“I miss him, too.” Aveline took Merrill's hands between hers and gave a brief squeeze. “All right. I'll talk to Donnic, then take a look at the guard roster, and we'll see if we can't find a reason to make an official visit to Skyhold.”

Perhaps if she was lucky, she might even find an excuse for a sparring match with Cassandra.


End file.
